Prove It
by Socrates7727
Summary: Drabble written for the IWSC! Draco is challenged/dared to let Harry use Legilimency on him!


AN I don't own HP or any of the characters! Written for the Round One Grammar School Drabble Challenge for the IWSC!

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Story Title: Prove It

School and Year: Mahoutokoro - Year Two

Theme: Grammar School Theme - Introduction: Try jumping into a specific scene to build characterization rather than through exposition.

Main Prompt: [emotion] Urge to destroy something

Word Count: 917

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"Can we help you, scarhead?" Draco's eyes flicked up, surprised to hear that signature insult from another Slytherin's mouth. Now was not the time and he cursed whoever had said it. Reckless words… They got the Golden Trio's attention, though.

"Control your thugs, Malfoy. Unless you aren't capable of it." He glared, ignoring the way that Potter placed his body in front of his friends—not obviously, but just enough to act as a shield. Maybe he could feel Draco's current destructive mood?

"Learn to Imperius your own tongue for once, Granger." The three Gryffindors collectively squared their shoulders in his direction—on the defensive, now. He swore internally, wishing he'd just taken his dinner down to the dungeons where no one would question why he felt the need to hit dummies with devastating curses. No one would care if one of the mannequins came back in pieces.

"Keep your poor manners to yourself, you git. Unless you've got something to prove?" Instantly, the Slytherin table rebuked. Draco ignored their yelling, though, and merely rose to his feet.

"Of course not." The words curled in his throat like bile. They were so obviously a lie, and Draco knew that everyone around him could see how fake he was being. But they couldn't. He'd built his entire reputation on the cold, stoic expression his face now bore and he fell back on it like a security blanket.

"Prove it, then." His attention rounded on the Weasel, who looked redder than the beets on his plate. Draco was running out of ways to diffuse the situation and he felt the tension creeping up his arms towards his chest. He didn't want a duel like this. This was too public, too vulnerable, and far too likely to make it back to his parents the next time they had Severus over for tea. Especially if he obliterated as many objects as he currently wanted to. Slowly, he arched a delicate eyebrow.

"You want me to prove that I have nothing to prove?" The sheer irony of that seemed to be lost on that particular Gryffindor. Anger twisted in his stomach. He tried not to focus on how ridiculous this situation was, or how many people would notice if he channeled that anger into his wand.

"Yes, actually. Prove it." Even the other Gryffindors gave Granger a bewildered look at that remark, but she held firm. "Legilimency." That… actually didn't sound like a horrible idea. It was certainly better than dueling in his current emotional state. Besides, he'd been training in Occlumency since his Second Year. He had no doubt that he could allow Potter into his mind and retain enough control to limit what the Gryffindor saw. They shook on it, and a larger crowd began to gather.

"Do your worst, Potter." Immediately, Draco felt Harry's presence, felt him rifling through thoughts like files in a folder. The anger dissipated—which Draco pretended was intentional. It was oddly calming to not be the only one inside his mind for a few moments. Less… lonely.

Suddenly, they both blinked and it was over. But wait, why was it over so quickly? He hadn't even felt Harry test any of his barriers, let alone fight him for any memories or thoughts. Harry—wait, no, Potter—had shifted, though. His cockiness was gone—obliterated. He looked sobered and he actually, physically, took a step back as he shook his head.

"You win, Malfoy."

It was a victory, and the Slytherin table immediately cheered, but it felt wrong. The students returned to their respective tables and finished their dinners in relative peace, but the situation continued to eat at Draco. Why had Ha—Potter. Why had Potter done that? That uncertainty brought back all that emotion in full force, and he bent his fork under the table to keep from hexing someone.

He lingered, long after the professors left and long after most of the student body had dismissed themselves. His fingers bent and mended the fork in his lap with practiced ease, like a metallic stress ball. He needed to know what Potter had seen, and he wanted to understand what had caused that reaction.

Finally, with only ten minutes left before the Great Hall closed its doors, Draco approached the lone Gryffindor.

"Why did you back off like that?" Potter spluttered, choking a bit on his pumpkin juice, but seemed to recover when he realized who was speaking to him. Rather than stand or reach for his wand, though, he just took a slower sip.

"You needed it more than me."

"Needed what?"

"The win." Potter wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What did you see?"

"Your father." Draco sneered, fists already aching for something else to bend.

"Of course you saw my father! He's my father—not that you'd know anything about that." Harry glared, but didn't say a word. It was a low blow. They'd been gradually acting more civil with time—throwing insults that never actually cut that deep—but Draco felt antsy and defensive. He needed to understand.

"My father?" he repeated, as if reminding them both of how ridiculous it sounded. "That's all it took? Are you that scared of him?"

"No, but you are." Draco froze. If he'd had any less self control, he could have shattered an entire table's worth of dishes with his magic alone. He took a deep breath, though, and centered himself.

"Don't tell anyone." The Gryffindor dragged his finger over his chest, crossing his heart.

"I wouldn't dream of it. Get some rest, Malfoy."

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Thanks for reading!


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